


Likeness

by yeaka



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds, The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: Alternate Universe - Amusement Park, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 08:18:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11227002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Alone at the fair, Link sees a prize he wants.





	Likeness

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for “Amusement Park” prompt on [my bingo card](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/158937866370/fic-bingo).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Legend of Zelda or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Link’s never particularly liked crowds, especially the _loud_ kind, and the bustling patrons of the amusement park seem louder than most. Children are laughing, parents are screaming, and teenagers are nattering on about things Link _tries_ not to hear. He usually doesn’t mind being on his own. He wasn’t all that distressed when he found himself separated from the group he came with. Now, he’s starting to miss them.

He figures they’ll find him eventually. Impa’s tall enough to see over most, even if Link himself is on the short side, and no one can find the right path as well as Zelda. He keeps his own eyes open and wanders down towards the concession stands—it’s just reached midday, and they should all be hungry by now—the smell of buttered popcorn is like a glowing beacon.

Link eyes the stalls he passes on the way, not really expecting to find anything interesting—few of the cheap confections on the fair grounds appeal to him—but then his eyes catch on a particular gaming booth, where an array of plush stuffed animals is hung from the ceiling. In the center is an enormous purple rabbit, one with giant white eyes and buckteeth that’s stuck somewhere between cute and creepy.

It reminds him unequivocally of a certain roommate he can never seem to get out of his head, and he’s headed for the stall before he can stop himself. There’s no one currently in line. The ashen grey worker behind the counter is slumped over, looking particularly bored. He lets out a long, withered breath that blows up the white hair brushed over one eye, the other rimmed in purple liner, and then he spots Link and straightens right up. Striking a bizarrely theatrical pose, the man boasts, “Step right up, young man! Would you like to try your hand at my shooting gallery? One prize bokoblin says you can’t hit a single blue rupee!”

Link comes to a halt in front of the counter and lifts both eyebrows at the man—he can’t imagine why _anyone_ would want a toy bokoblin. The ceiling bears a wide range of their depiction, going from purple to green to red, and all of them are as unappealing as the next. Some even sport little clubs that droop heavily towards the ground. Link points instead to the rabbit, and the man nods. “A rabbit, then? The rules are simple—hit enough rupees, win a prize. Think you got what it takes?” The man wears a wicked grin as though to say that _he_ doesn’t think Link does, but that doesn’t give Link any concern. Even if no one else has managed to get a prize from this booth, even if maybe the strange man’s got it rigged, Link’s confident in his skills. He fishes two green rupees out of his pocket and puts them down on the counter—the standard fare scrawled on the blackboard at the side of the booth. All the booths seem to cost the same. And Link hasn’t paid any of them any mind until now. 

As if the man wasn’t disturbing enough, he actually licks his lips as he collects the rupees, his tongue reaching disconcertingly far. Then he steps aside and pulls a long handle at the side, and a cheesy carnival song starts up. The painted cardboard background shifts, and right before the first rupee leaps up out of the center, the man tosses a plastic bow from out of nowhere into Link’s hands.

Link misses the first rupee, but he’s got a good grip to nail the second one with a foam dart. The rupee wobbles in its place but doesn’t fall over, telling Link what he suspected—they’re propped up with something. He hits the third one harder, and it obediently topples to the floor of the booth, which earns him a frown from the proprietor.

Some of the rupees slide in from the side, resting in a little cart on wheels, and others are shot into the air. Most are green, a few are blue, then a red one pops up, and at the very end, a purple one goes by so fast that Link barely manages to shoot at it—he misses, but now that he knows the pattern of how they come up, he knows he can do better next time. And he caught more than half.

When the song ends, the man reaches up to pluck a keychain off one of the hanging strings and tosses it to Link. Link catches it in one hand and sets down the bow. Winking, the man tells him, “Impressive.”

The keychain isn’t what Link wanted, but then, he hadn’t noticed it at first—he was too busy eyeing the giant rabbit, which they keychain is only a smaller version of. It’s the same bright purple, with the same goofy eyes and upright ears. If he can just get Zelda to sew it a little blue scarf, it’ll be perfect. 

And, at least, it’ll be less conspicuous. He might not be able to hug it, but he can keep it with him more often. Then, of course, there’s always the option for both. He stuffs the keychain into the pocket of his pants and collects the bow again, pointing at the big rabbit.

The proprietor glances up and grins, all but purring, “Oh, you want _that_ one, do you? For that, you’ll have to hit _every_ rupee.” He fixes Link with a challenging stare, licks his white lips, and pulls the lever again. 

This time, Link’s on fire. He knows when every rupee’s coming, and he sends the foam darts flying in quick, hard succession. They all topple obediently over. He’s just waiting for the red one when someone calls behind him, “Link!”

It’s only a small spark of distraction, but it’s enough. Link misses, and the next thing he knows, Ravio is at his side, an arm looped around his, cheerily greeting, “I thought I’d lost you! Can’t believe you snuck off to—”

But then he stops talking, looking up instead, and his mouth falls open. Link can’t help glancing at it. Then he forgets the game entirely. He stares, instead, at Ravio’s pink lips, his gorgeous emerald eyes, his dark hair brushed to shining perfection, his handsome face lit up in adorable awe and pleasure. The midday sun highlights all his best features; he seems to shine. And he turns to Link with infectious excitement, exclaiming, “Were you trying to win me the rabbit? Can you believe it? My favourite animal, in my favourite colour! Ohhh, Link!” He gives Link a sudden, clinging side-hug that Link goes stiff in. As much as he does _like_ Ravio, he never knows what to do in _these_ situations. He figures with a teacher as encouraging and genuine as Ravio, he could learn. 

As soon as the hug’s over, Ravio turns to the proprietor. He completely ignores the man’s scowl and demands, “Another round!” But he doesn’t add any money to the counter, so Link does.

Link lifts his bow, ready, and as soon as the show starts again, he’s on it.

This time, Link throws himself into focus. Ravio is no quieter than usual, but Link tunes out his cheers and comments, concentrating solely on the game. The proprietor starts to goad him, but Link ignores that too. He shoots rupee after rupee with exacting power, sending every last one toppling. He hits the red rupee. He hits all the green ones that follow. And he knocks the purple one right out of the air. Ravio squeals delightedly at his side, making it worth all the tension in Link’s back. 

He lowers his bow at the end, and the man, glaring daggers, begrudgingly fetches a stool from the corner to climb up and unclip the rabbit. Then he thrusts it over the counter at Link, who barely has a second to hold it before Ravio’s snatching it away.

It looks better in Ravio’s arms that it would in his, anyway. It covers Ravio’s entire chest, his smile just barely visible between the ears. Hugging it close, he laughs to Link, “My hero!”

Link gives a sheepish shrug and hopes he’s not blushing too hard. Sometimes Ravio’s just too cute to deal with. 

He maneuvers around the rabbit to wrap his free arm around Link’s again. He clutches as tight as ever and even leans in to give Link’s cheek a kiss, something he knows he’ll cherish. 

Then Ravio marches them off, and Link follows, dropping one hand to fondly hold the keychain in his pocket.


End file.
